


Paper Faces on Parade

by ThePreciousHeart



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin, Galahad, and another agent have to go undercover at a masquerade ball. When the mission is compromised, they have to work together to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest expression of thanks goes towards the wonderful RafaelaFranzen, who not only provided the inspiration that sparked this piece, but also helped me with ideas and editing when I was stuck. This would have never been posted if it wasn’t for your input!
> 
> This was written in the same continuity as the majority of my other Kingsman fics, so I suggest reading those if you're curious about anything I mentioned.
> 
> The title is taken from the song "Masquerade" from The Phantom of the Opera.

        _Of all the missions I’ve supervised,_ Merlin thought as he sipped his punch and tried to make himself scarce, _this has to be one of the more… creative ones._

He shouldn’t have been surprised, really, considering the target’s background. Ms. Rhonda Rhodes had been brought up in a fairly wealthy family, and had been educated at the best that wealth could get her. Her family’s estate had often been the scene for lavish parties, even before she made her way into the spotlight. But Merlin still had raised his eyebrows when the full details of the mission came through. A party was one thing- a _costumed masquerade_ was another. Every gilt-edged invitation specified that no guest was allowed in without an appropriate mask. Clearly Ms. Rhodes had a vivid imagination.

       Judging from the ballroom’s décor, it was apparent she had gone all out in the name of authenticity. Women in showy, billowing dresses tittered and smiled while men in elegant tuxedos chased caterers serving drinks among the crowd. The heady aroma of fresh blossoms wafted from the lush flower arrangements propped on every table, mingling with the sweet smell of pastries and cakes. Aside from the balloons that hung languorously in the air, the glitter-flecked confetti sparkling the floor, and the promise of a fireworks display to come later, the ballroom was the very picture of a Georgian masked ball. There was even a complete string quartet- although the music they played was much more familiar to Merlin’s ear than ancient waltzes and minuets. His mind couldn’t help but fill in the words as the music drifted through the loudspeakers.

       _Oh, I’m in so deep_

_You know I’m such a fool for you_

_You got me wrapped around your finger_

_Do you have to let it linger?_

_Do you have to? Do you have to…_

Not exactly his taste, but Merlin did appreciate the creativity of the arrangement. He tuned it out, though- there were greater matters to focus on. Resisting the urge to tug at the mask plastered to his face, he headed towards the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor, surreptitiously scanning the crowd for any sign of the two agents he was there to keep an eye on. Even with contacts in, he felt blind compared to the mechanical wonders of his Kingsman-issued glasses. Did Bors and Galahad feel the same way, or were they enjoying themselves too much to care?

      Well, Bors was certainly enjoying himself. Merlin had watched him make for the dance floor almost immediately upon arrival, taking the initiative of asking the first single woman he saw to dance. Amusingly enough, she hadn’t even been the target. Of course making for the target straightaway would have seemed too forward, but Merlin suspected Bors really didn’t care who the target was, as long as he got to dance with _someone._ Only one year at Kingsman, and already Bors had established himself as a major flirt- which was probably the kindest word to describe him. But it was that precise description that had led to his being picked for the mission. When it came to seduction missions, Bors got _results._ With his lustrous, coal-black locks and pure, twinkling blue eyes, it wasn’t hard to see why. Tonight he was garbed in a deep black tuxedo that matched his hair, and a mask designed to resemble a peacock, which Merlin privately thought was a little _too_ fitting.

        One of Merlin’s hands busied itself with plucking a petit four from the refreshment table, while the other subtly boosted the volume on Bors’ audio feed. Without enhanced visual, it was best to rely on audio for clues to an agent’s whereabouts. Presently Bors’ smooth voice filtered into Merlin’s ears, loaded with sweet nothings. “Why don’t we take a break after this song, darling? I’d love to get to know the _real_ you, without any distractions.”

       So he’d made his way to the target after all. Merlin took a bite from the petit four and waited patiently for the song to draw to a close. Almost as soon as it did, he caught the movement of two bodies breaking away from the crowd- Bors, splendid in his tux, and Rhonda, her frilly white gown, blonde curls, and swan-styled mask providing a pleasing contrast. Merlin’s earpiece caught the burbles of her laughter as Bors took her by the arm and led her to the wall, where they settled into a relaxed conversation, seeming to forget the rest of the guests entirely.

        _...as if they were the only people in the room._

         _If only it was that easy for me..._

A sharp twinge accompanied the thought - but of course, Merlin was a professional. Once he had received the assignment he’d swallowed his pride and headed for the nearest costume shop in search of a mask. It wasn’t like he had a choice, either. The Rhodes family, for all their prestige, apparently weren’t the type of people to install security cameras. And it provided a good opportunity to observe and evaluate their newest agent as well. But even so, Merlin couldn’t deny that he felt uneasy here. Every time a lady approached for a dance, his mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that she had seen through his guise. Not even accepting a dance could completely quell the nerves. The women who swayed in Merlin’s arms seemed content to melt into the music and lose themselves, but Merlin was constantly peering over their shoulders, trying to peel away the suffocating masks surrounding him with his eyes. Silly to be so suspicious, when anonymity was entirely the point of a masquerade… but tonight Merlin didn’t have the comfort of a screen to hide behind, and so felt the world much more acutely than he usually would have.

       “Tell you what, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Bors simpered in Merlin’s ear. He glanced at the couple by the wall, noting how they had inched closer to each other without seeming to realize it. “When I first arrived tonight I was convinced I would have an absolutely miserable time without a date. But I wasn’t expecting to run into such a fascinating woman like yourself. It’s so refreshing to meet a hostess who’s so down to earth.”

       “Oh, thank you,” came Rhonda’s faint reply. “I do try…”

       Merlin wished he had his clipboard in hand to record how well Bors was doing. He knew that Rhonda was very much into the pursuit of sexual freedom, but he hadn’t expected to secure her this quickly. Instead he finished off the petit four and made for the bar, where he had a better vantage point of the dance floor. That was Bors taken care of- now he had to locate Galahad. The mission was too important to switch over to his audio, but Merlin didn’t expect to hear much from Galahad anyway. Unlike Bors, he’d taken things more slowly when he arrived at the party- fashionably late, as usual. He’d spent a good ten minutes mingling with the guests and sampling the refreshments before hitting the dance floor, but once he’d entered it, there he’d stayed. Several times already Merlin had lost track of him. The extravagant mask he’d chosen didn’t make it easier, either- he blended right in with the crowd of socialites.

       The bar was almost as crowded as the dance floor when Merlin reached it, which almost made him balk before he reminded himself how ridiculous he was being. There was no reason to hide from harmless revelers. Tonight’s menu was focused mainly on wine and champagne. Nothing fancier, which was frankly surprising considering the extravagance of the party. Merlin settled on white wine and gazed idly towards the surging crowd, watching couples move their feet to the music.

       Which now appeared to be an upbeat arrangement of “The Sign.” Impressive, but highly lacking in choice. Not that it was Merlin’s job to critique the entertainment- he was just here to make sure his agents performed well.

       _I saw the sign_

_And it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign…_

“Care for a dance?” The request came so suddenly that it nearly caught Merlin off-guard. He turned his head and found himself face to face with a dark-haired woman in a red dress and a black velvet mask that nicely offset her pale skin. Smiling through ruby lips, she offered her hand, and Merlin shook his head and politely told her no. Irritation needled him. This was exactly the type of attention he wasn’t keen on receiving. It must be the mask that made her act so boldly. _Where the hell is Harry…?_

Sipping his drink, Merlin quietly scanned the crowd once more before finally spotting a familiar figure in a wine-colored suit and elaborate mask. The red and blue plumage that adorned it was obviously reminiscent of some sort of bird, but Merlin couldn’t puzzle out what. He’d have to ask him about it later. Galahad twirled his dance partner about as if she had been made for him. Although Merlin knew it was all an act, his gaze lingered on Galahad’s expression of pure contentment. He seemed just as lost in the moment as Bors- as relaxed as a fish in sea. For a moment Merlin openly lapped up the sight with his eyes, of Galahad twisting and turning and leading comfortably, rhythmically. He’d never seen the man exhibit such adept footwork before. His fluid movements suggested an interest that went beyond a mere two-week crash course on ballroom dancing. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned that interest to Merlin?

        Bors’ crooning cut in across Merlin’s attention span, and he somewhat guiltily tore his eyes away from Galahad, feeling as if he’d been prying. _Stop it. Stay objective. Keep your focus._ Expelling all thoughts of Galahad and taking another sip from his glass, Merlin absorbed the sight of Bors and Rhonda, still standing together by the wall. Her hand was now gently clasping his, her eyes fixated on his face. In return, Bors’ entire body was open and angled towards Rhonda, presenting himself as an invitation. Merlin silently raised his eyebrows, satisfied. At this rate, it would soon be time for Bors’ favorite part of the mission.

        His mind flashed back to the day Arthur had given them the assignment and he minutely shook his head, still struck by Bors’ response. “Should be a breeze,” the young agent had said, hardly even bothering to conceal the grin on his face. “She’s already whoring out MI6. It’s not a stretch to assume she’d whore herself out as well.”

        Merlin had made the wise decision not to look Galahad in the eye at that. Thank goodness the man knew when to hold his tongue. Later, though, when the two of them gained a few minutes of alone time, Merlin was able to beat Galahad to it. “I know, Galahad. I know. Dignity is not Bors’ strong suit. _Seduction_ , however, is a different story.”

       Galahad had sighed, looking equal parts resigned to his fate and put off that Merlin had read his mind so easily. “Now don’t get me wrong. You know where I stand on honeypots. I’m just not sure Bors is… the ideal choice.”

       “That’s not for you or me to decide,” Merlin reminded him calmly. He took Galahad’s hand and gave his stiff fingers a one-second squeeze before dropping it. “Just be grateful that Arthur respects your position.” Although he suspected Arthur respected it for entirely the wrong reasons. Only Merlin knew that Galahad’s refusal to go on seduction missions was more than a personal choice.

       Even knowing Galahad’s nature, though, Merlin found it hard to imagine him failing a honeypot. Sure, Bors was handsome and suave, but he also _oozed_ charm from every pore- practically commanding people to sit up and take notice of him. By contrast, Harry bore a subtler, more natural charisma. He didn’t have to get in anyone’s face to drag their attention away- he simply had to speak to one person, and that one person would have no desire to speak to anyone else. The world could be falling apart and they would still only be conscious of his brown eyes on theirs, telling them non-verbally that he was there and he was listening.

        Merlin, of course, knew this from personal experience.

       “I propose a toast,” Rhonda was saying from the other side of the room. Even across the distance, the smile on her face shone like a beacon, a testament to Bors’ powerful charms. She hardly waited for Bors to agree- “A toast, yes”- before snagging two champagne flutes from a passing caterer. She handed one over to Bors, who eagerly took it and grinned back at Rhonda just as brightly.

       “To the romance of the dark night, and to the brightness of our future,” Rhonda breathed, raising her glass high. Bors mimicked her movement effortlessly. They both downed the drinks at the same time. Then Bors’ arm began to creep around Rhonda’s waist, slowly but surely. He leaned in closer to her, and a low murmur tickled Merlin’s eardrum. “Perhaps it’s time we take this party-“

       But he never got the chance to finish his suggestion. Bors’ sweetly-whispered words abruptly trailed off as he pitched forward, wobbling a bit before collapsing into Rhonda’s arms. She moved closer, trying to support his weight, her face wrought with distress- but her subtle movements hadn’t escaped Merlin’s notice. He’d seen her brace herself before catching Bors. Rhonda had known this was going to happen-

      Clearly this meant she was either suspicious of all men who tried to chat her up, or more likely (and disastrously), she had caught on. She knew what Bors was after, and she wasn’t going to let him take it from her. Merlin’s worst nightmare coming true right before his eyes.

       His first instinct was to leap from his seat and push through the crowd to reach Bors, but even as the thought crossed his mind Rhonda took ahold of the woozy Bors and led him down the closest corridor. Soon they were both out of sight. Merlin’s heart thudded. Where was she taking him? He’d studied the floor plan well before coming here, but he hadn’t been able to memorize the multitude of rooms coming from each winding corridor. By the time he made it to the end of that wall they could be anywhere in the estate.

      It was time to call in their backup _._

       Gulping down the rest of his drink, Merlin rose from his seat at the bar and headed for a quieter spot in the room, dodging caterers and revelers alike. As soon as he was out of earshot from those unsuspecting, he switched over to Galahad’s feed and spoke urgently into the microphone hidden within his suit. “Galahad. The target has drugged Bors. She led him down the third corridor on the right side of the room. Disengage from your dance partner and take up pursuit. Contact me as soon as you’ve traced them.”

Briskly he turned and began scanning the swell of dancers for any sign of Galahad. It hadn’t been that hard to spot him the first few times. But now the tides had turned, and try as he might Merlin couldn’t see him amidst the crowd. He bit his tongue to keep from swearing. All the colors of the costumes were blending together, topaz and emerald and onyx, beads and baubles, fowl and fish… So much as the smallest flash of red and blue put Merlin on alert. _Come on, Galahad. You can’t fail me now._

Finally the wine-colored suit came into sight again, and Merlin released his pent-up breath. Slowly his hands clenched and unclenched, sweat cooling on his skin. He watched as Galahad made for the corridor, weaving idly toward it as if tipsy. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that his gentle voice reached Merlin’s ears- crisp,  clear, and fresh. “Merlin. There’s no sign of Bors or the target in the corridor. How far should I proceed?”

        For a moment Merlin had to close his eyes and just let the sound of Galahad’s voice, _Harry’s_ voice, wash over him. _It’s all right… All right._ Then his eyes snapped back open, his stress ebbing, draining away until nothing but cool professionalism remained. “I’m coming to meet you, Galahad. Stay right where you are. If anyone questions you, tell them you got lost on the way to the toilets.”

      A warm chuckle drifted through his ears. “That’s a rather difficult excuse to use when the toilets are right down the corridor. I can see them from here.”

       Merlin rolled his eyes and began to move. Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the crowd of dancers for a few seconds before plunging right into them. He moved like a stream flowing over jagged rocks, trying to avoid the ecstatic partygoers as best he could. _Get to Galahad. Go find Bors._ But as he slid past mask after mask, a tight feeling rose in his chest. A feeling he knew only too well.

      Shit. Now was _not_ the time.

      The weeping strings onstage grated on Merlin’s nerves as he was swept along by the throng. _Sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody is looking for-_

 _Shut up,_ Merlin thought heavily towards the quartet, his heartbeat growing louder in his ears. Masked figures seemed to confront him at every step, and he awkwardly dodged them, unable to keep their rhythm. _Christ, it’s almost like hand-to-hand combat._ Very slow-moving, well-choreographed combat, but combat all the same, where everyone he passed tried to assert their dominance over him. The other side of the room suddenly seemed a million miles away. He was swimming in a sea of hidden faces, sinking beneath them, drowning in them-

       A soft hand brushed against Merlin’s elbow, and he nearly jumped at the touch. For a second, all he could see rising before him was an outrageous mask,  blue and red feathers leaping out at him. Then realization dawned on him, and the tension began to drain from his body. At last, he’d found Galahad. At last, his Harry was here.

       “I’m here,” Galahad chose to say then, as if he had read Merlin’s mind. “Should we talk in the corridor?”

      Merlin nodded, suddenly realizing how small and far away and stifled he felt. Air! He needed air immediately. “Perfect,” he breathed, grasping Galahad’s arm and leading him away from the cluster of dancers. “Can you show me the way to the toilets?”

       Even holding onto Galahad, his lifeline, the tension in Merlin’s stance didn’t drop until they were safely out of the ballroom, out of the way of prying eyes. Now it was just the two of them, alone in the corridor without any intrusions. Merlin let go of Galahad’s arm and tried to straighten himself, to breathe properly. _This is NOT the end of the world_. He had Harry with him now, and that was all that mattered. Together, they were bound to figure out how to salvage the mission.

       “I hate to be the one to say I told you so,” Galahad began in a low voice. “But I do recall mentioning that Bors wasn’t the ideal agent for this mission.”

       “It wasn’t his fault,” Merlin shot back, his words coming out a bit more heated than he intended. Air, he needed _air_ … “Ms. Rhodes proposed a toast. I should have seen it coming.”

       “Bors should have known better than to accept the toast,” Galahad replied. “How can you possibly blame yourself?”

       “I don’t know. How could she have possibly figured out that Bors was playing her?” Aha, the bathroom was in sight. Merlin put on an extra burst of speed to reach it, pushing the door open and just barely remembering to hold it open for Galahad. Upon stepping inside, the scent of dried rose petals assailed him, and he looked about for the source before spotting a potpourri bowl on the shelf above the sink. The walls were painted a creamy, comforting pink, striking Merlin as much more homey and familiar than the grand trappings of the ballroom. His pounding heartbeat quieted at the sight.

       “What would you have gained from being sent in his place, anyway?” Merlin asked Galahad as he drifted to the sink.

       “Surely you know me better than to make such assumptions,” Galahad said. He actually did sound a bit perturbed, and Merlin felt a twinge of shame. He shouldn’t take his frustrations out on Galahad. It wasn’t fair to him at all. He turned the cold water on as Galahad hung back and watched him over his shoulder.

       “D’you mind telling me what you’re supposed to be?” Merlin said, gesturing to Galahad’s mask.

        Though clearly surprised by the trivial course that the conversation had taken, Galahad replied promptly. “It’s a bird of paradise. Old family heirloom.”

       If Merlin had had the time he would have told Galahad that he doubted that very much, considering Galahad’s fraught relationship with his family, but as it was he simply said, “Could you possibly take it off? I want to- I’ve got to see your eyes.”

       Without missing a beat, Galahad carefully pulled the mask off, leaving his face bare to the world. Right away Merlin felt a bolt of relief shoot through him. There was no Galahad, clever secret agent, anymore- there was only Harry, his Harry, the man he cared for more than anyone else he knew. Maybe even more than anyone in the world.

        Dipping his fingers in the cool water, Merlin pushed his turquoise mask up to his forehead and splashed the water across his face. He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then shut the water off, turning around to face Harry. “Here’s the situation so far. One of our agents is out of commission and must be located. The target of seduction knows that someone is trying to pull one over on her and thus likely won’t take to anyone else trying to chat her up. Our backup-“ Merlin reached out and tapped Harry’s chest- “is unable to seduce her even if he could manage to secure her. And we’re no closer to finding proof of her treachery towards MI6 than we were when we accepted invitations to tonight’s masquerade.”

         “Very bad news,” Harry said smoothly, taking a step back and sizing up Merlin. “But we’ve played with greater odds against us.”

       Merlin resisted the urge to scoff at that. “Perhaps we have, Galahad, but from the looks of it this is what my uncle used to call a Murphy’s Law mission.”

        Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Is _that_ what you call it? In the field we’ve got a more… succinct term. Simply put, we’re in the middle of a shitshow.”

       “Not the most _comforting_ term,” Merlin muttered. He glanced down at Harry’s clasped hands before him, steadying himself and collecting his thoughts before continuing. “Okay. Our best course of action would be to split up. Galahad, from this point on you’re responsible for retrieving Bors. Scour every room and leave no stone unturned. I’ll search for evidence. Contact me as soon as you’ve retrieved him.”

        “No,” Harry replied.

       The single word rocked through Merlin’s consciousness. He stared wildly up at Harry. _No? What does he MEAN, “no??”_

“Galahad, like it or not, I am your superior. Unless you have a serious concern-“

        “Merlin,” Harry said calmly. Tentatively he reached out and stroked the back of Merlin’s hand with his fingertips. “I regret to inform you that I do have a serious concern. I want to know what’s wrong.”

        Blankly Merlin repeated, “What’s- wrong?” He stared down at his hands, and Harry withdrew his, as if suddenly self-conscious.

        “You seem very tense,” he said. “I don’t want to start this mission until I know you’re going to be all right.”

        An overwhelming emotion swept over Merlin, but he wasn’t able to identify it in that moment. He pushed it down and fumbled for words. “Don’t worry about me, Gala- Galahad. I’m fine. I _will be_ fine.”

        “When I met you in the crowd you looked at me like I was a ghost,” Harry said. “And you grabbed me too tightly when we left the room.”

       _Did I…?_ The wave of unnamed emotion transitioned into guilt. He hadn’t meant to be rough with Harry. It wasn’t like him to behave so poorly, not even with an excuse. Merlin swallowed, deciding that he might as well offer that excuse to Harry. About time he explained himself.

       “I’m sorry,” he said softly, forcing himself not to grit his teeth against his words. “I- remember when I told you on your birthday that I wouldn’t make a good field agent?”

        Harry’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. Not a promising reaction, but there was no way Merlin could back out now. He sighed heavily. “It’s not for lack of personal skill. It’s… it’s an anxiety disorder. When I’m in the field, I… tend to panic. Often for irrational reasons. That’s why I didn’t complete training with you.”

        To even say the words was an embarrassing admission. But Harry’s first response was, “Does this affect your work at Kingsman?”

        The same unidentifiable emotion washed over Merlin. He grappled with it for a moment, confused as to why Harry’s words affected him so deeply. Then it hit him.

        In the nine years that Merlin had worked at Kingsman, no agent had ever asked after his weaknesses before. No agent had ever seen him as fallible, as _human._ No agent but Harry.

        “No,” he muttered, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “Not unless I’m in the field. Why do you think I work behind the scenes?”

        Harry’s forehead creased and his lips parted, as if he wanted to continue discussing the matter. But all that came out of his mouth was a mild, “You’re sure you can complete the mission? It was my role as backup, after all.”

        “Of course I’m sure,” Merlin snapped. He reached up and hurriedly pulled the mask over his eyes again. “I’m not dealing directly with the target, you know.”

        “I know,” Harry said simply, calmly. He came forward, his hand coming to rest in the space between Merlin’s shoulder and neck. So casual, as if he wasn’t even conscious of his actions. Warmth emanated through Merlin’s body from the point of contact between him and Harry.

       “Whatever you require from me, I will do. You know that, Merlin. I just want you to be comfortable with your own choice.”

       Once again, the pang of an unnamed emotion struck Merlin’s heart. This time, however, it didn’t take him long to figure out what it was.

_Oh._

       Harry had expressed devotion, care and interest- and Merlin was touched. Here was a man who was too good for him.

       “Galahad-“ Merlin drew in a deep breath, wishing that he could drop the codename, but he wasn’t taking any chances in the field. “I’ll go retrieve Bors. You complete the mission.”

       Harry let his hand fall from Merlin’s shoulder. No emotion played upon his face, but his eyes shone. “Naturally. It’s time to save the world.”

       _I hardly find this situation to be a global threat,_ Merlin thought, but aloud he replied, “And then you’ll come to me, right?”

       “And then I’ll come to you.” Harry reached up to pull his mask over his eyes, and just like that, he was Galahad again. Merlin stared after him as Galahad exited the bathroom, counted to ten, and then left the room himself.


	2. Chapter 2

       Out in the corridor, Merlin turned away from the sounds of music and chatter coming from the ballroom, without a single glance behind as Galahad headed back towards the party. Whatever happened on Galahad’s end was out of his control from this moment on. This was a two-man mission, with a task for each of them, and it was time for Merlin to do his part.

       _Best of luck, Harry._

He strode down the corridor, waiting until he was at the very end before switching over to Bors’ feed. “Bors, are you there? Can you hear me? Come in, Bors.” Who knew what had been in that drink or how long it would keep Bors sedated- but calling to him was worth a shot. If Bors was conscious, it would certainly help narrow down his location.

       At the end of the corridor was a small stairwell. Merlin ascended it, straining his ears for ambient noise on Bors’ end of the line. Presently he found himself in another, smaller corridor, with a few more doorways dotting the walls. _What is this place, a hotel?_ He checked to make sure the coast was clear before contacting Bors again. “Come in, Bors. Are you there?”

       Nothing but silence met Merlin’s hushed query. Sighing, he stepped back against the wall and surveyed the rooms. _Pick a door, any door… God. It’s like Russian roulette, only the gun is fully loaded and there’s just one empty chamber._

       Was Galahad having better luck on his end? Idly Merlin switched over, the need for emotional support edging out his obligation to stay focused on his own mission. Almost immediately Galahad’s voice drifted through his ears, startling him. “Where did you find this string quartet? They’re absolutely wonderful.”

        “A friend of a friend,” came the reply, and Merlin’s eyes widened. That high-pitched, nasal tone could only have come from Ms. Rhonda Rhodes. After listening to her and Bors chat half the night, her voice was now unmistakable. What was Galahad doing, interacting with her?

         Instead of interrupting Galahad to find out, Merlin switched back to Bors feed with slightly-trembling fingers. His words came out more insistently than before. “Bors. Come in, Bors. If you can hear me, respond _now.”_ But what was he really expecting? He’d seen Bors fall unconscious into Rhonda’s arms- for all he knew Bors had been put in a coma. It was only a matter of time before he would have to resort to knocking doors down-

        “Merlin?” rasped a voice on the other end. Immediately Merlin honed in on the sound.

      “Yes, it’s me,” he said. “Bors?”

        A few seconds of silence, and then Bors’ voice came through sluggishly, speaking as if his tongue was weighted with a ball and chain. “Wh- where are you? _God_ , my head hurts.”

           _Just like a hangover._ Merlin grimaced. “I’m on the first floor of the Rhodes estate. Do you remember what happened?”

        Bors exhaled noisily. “I dunno, I- I remember having a drink with her… _God.”_ A sense of clarity seemed to fill him. “I can’t move my- I’ve been restrained. She must have tied me up.” His voice took on a lazy touch of amusement. “Not a usual turn of events, but if she’s up for it…”

        Merlin fought the urge to tell Bors that he knew much more about bondage than Bors would ever care to learn. Instead he reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose beneath his mask. “It was a trap. The target is aware that we’re looking for proof of her treachery towards MI6. She drugged the champagne, Bors. If you can describe your location to me, I’ll come to extract you.”

        “Ahh…” It sounded like Bors was stretching, trying to get his bearings. “She tied me up in the bedroom. My hands are bound to the headboard…” Gradually he slipped into a faraway tone, as if his mind was beginning to wander. “Got me by the feet as well. There’s these awful paintings on the wall, birds and whatever… Purple wallpaper.”

        _Good enough._ The floor plan of the estate sprang to Merlin’s mind, presenting itself as clearly as if he was staring at a map right in front of him. Bedrooms were on the second floor. How Rhonda had gotten up there and back again so quickly was a mystery. And why had she chosen the most suggestive of all rooms? Was she trying to set Bors up somehow- or had she genuinely taken advantage of him?

       The last thought made Merlin’s blood run cold. Worse had happened to agents in the line of duty- but Rhonda was with _Harry_ now. The desire to contact him, to tell him to watch out, to not get too close, was strong. But then he reminded himself that Galahad wasn’t the young roughneck he had been when he first joined Kingsman. He knew how to handle himself, and if he had a problem he would contact Merlin immediately, as any good agent would.

         “I’m coming for you, Bors,” Merlin murmured, and set off at once, making for the next set of stairs. “Stay with me.”

       “Can’t do anything else,” Bors replied, his voice weak. “God, I’m fucked, and I didn’t even _get_ fucked.”

        “Don’t talk like that,” Merlin whispered fervently as he traveled upwards. “You handled yourself well, Bors. Can you give me a report on your condition?”

       There was the sound of harsh breathing, and then Bors replied faintly. “Besides the… tied-up thing… feel lightheaded… like I’m going to pass out again.”

       “Just keep talking to me,” Merlin ordered. “And keep your voice down. There’s no one else in the room?”

       “No.”

       The second floor was in sight, and this time Merlin realized he had company. A single man was posted outside the entrance from the sitting room into the master bedroom, reclining in a chair by the doorway. Merlin slunk back into the corner and continued to question Bors while his mind flipped through possible procedures. “When you were talking with the target, did you expose yourself?”

       He could hear the smirk on Bors’ face. “No, didn’t get that far.”

        “For the love of God, _stop fooling around_ ,” Merlin hissed, losing his patience. “Bors, I need to know if you compromised the mission in any way.”

       “Not… that I’m aware of,” Bors said, before expelling a heavy sigh. Merlin guessed that he was fighting the urge to drift back into unconsciousness. He rubbed at his temples and swallowed a sigh of his own. Forget it, then. Blame could be dished out later, once the mission was through.

       Quietly Merlin peered from his vantage point in the corner, considering how to pull off his next move. There was just one guard, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in contact with others. If Merlin had been able to sneak a pistol into the masquerade, he could have easily sniped the man right then and there, but carrying guns would have been a bit too conspicuous, not to mention paranoid. Unfortunately, Kingsman hadn’t predicted a situation like this occurring. He did, however, still have one weapon on him. It wasn’t a rainmaker or a rifle, but it would have to do.

       Closing his eyes, Merlin composed himself, focusing his entire mind on the performance he was about to give. Bors wasn’t going anywhere, and Galahad… Galahad could be dealt with later. This moment depended on him, and him alone **.** Merlin quickly rehearsed the scene in his head, twisted the signet ring on his right hand to face the opposite direction, and then staggered out into the sitting room. He moved as if the floor was unsteady beneath his feet.

       “Ah… Excuse me?” he called out in a perfect replica of an upper-class British accent. The man’s eyes were on him, he could sense it, but he hadn’t left the chair. “Can you- can you tell me where I am?” Pasting an apologetic grin onto his face, Merlin gestured about himself. “I appear to have… lost my party.”

       The guard regarded him incredulously for a second before rising from his seat and stepping towards him. “I’d say you have.” Suspicion coated each word. “The party’s on the _ground_ floor. You shouldn’t be up here.”

       “The ground floor?” Merlin repeated dumbly. “Oh, thank you, you’re ever so kind.” He wobbled across the floor to take hold of the guard’s hand in a clumsy two-handed grasp, shaking it heartily. The guard tried to pull away from him, but Merlin’s instincts were faster. His left hand wrapped around the underside of their clasped palms, fingers squeezing the contact on his signet ring. The air hissed and crackled with electricity, and the guard bellowed in pain. He recoiled, giving Merlin enough time to dart in, knocking him out with a well-placed elbow to the temple.

       A flicker of pride swelled in him. _Not bad for my first field mission this year._ But then again, he _had_ been keeping up with training.

       The door to the bedroom was surprisingly unlocked. That wasn’t a good sign- Merlin’s instincts told him that it shouldn’t have been so easy to make his way here. But hey, he wasn’t about to complain unless reinforcements showed up. He barged in through the door, where he was greeted by lilac walls and framed sketches of animals adorning them. And a semi-conscious Bors, bound to the canopy bed with ropes. This must be the place, all right.

       “I’m here, Bors,” Merlin breathed as he came forward, inspecting the mess Rhonda had left for him. He had to admit he was impressed. If Rhonda was indeed the one who had tied Bors up, she had done a very good job of it. Those ropes were sure to leave marks on his skin. Bors’ only response to Merlin was a low moan, emitted from the back of his throat. It was unclear whether or not he had even understood Merlin.

       Quickly Merlin set to work, his deft fingers loosening each restraint. If there was one thing he could constantly pride himself on, it was his expertise in knotwork, both tying and untying. He had Bors’ upper half free in a matter of seconds. The knot binding his feet together was a little trickier, so Merlin knelt and began to use his teeth. Now that was a skill he’d learned from an entire different circle, though it had drawn just as much praise.

       “…what are you doing?” Bors blearily piped up just as Merlin was finishing.

       “Don’t question me,” he mumbled through a mouth full of rope. Kingsman agents were masters of discretion. If Bors remembered this particular part of his escape later on, he’d probably keep his mouth shut about it, and if he didn’t, well, Merlin didn’t mind a little gossip every now and then.

       Once Bors was free from his bonds, Merlin rose and sat down on the bed, offering his hand to Bors. “I’ll help you up, Bors. Lean on me.”

        Bors said nothing, but he managed to raise a hand to meet Merlin’s. Forcefully Merlin tugged him up, wrapping an arm around his chest and hauling him to his feet. “Can you walk with me?” Bors’ eyelids fluttered as he slowly nodded. Together he and Merlin made their way back into the sitting room, Merlin’s heart easing all the while. That was his end of the job done. Now all he needed was to find a discreet location to hide and wait for Galahad to save the world.

       However, tension descended on him once he reentered the sitting room and found no one present, save for the still-unconscious guard. Something was _wrong_ with this setup. There should be sinister henchmen swarming from the floorboards any second now. The one guard couldn’t be the only man protecting Bors. How had Merlin gone unnoticed so far? It couldn’t be pure luck.

       The tightness in Merlin’s chest returned, restricting the flow of air through his lungs. His fingers sought out the device to switch between feeds **.** He needed Galahad right now… He needed _someone._

“Galahad? Come in, Galahad.”

       He waited, perhaps a second longer than he should have, but there was nothing. No handsome voice in his ear informing him of the agent’s whereabouts, or that he had just completed his mission, or even that he was reading Merlin loud and clear. No background chatter. No _anything._

“Galahad? Are you there?”

       Still nothing but the sound of silence.

       “Galahad…”

 _Galahad._ Try as he might to suppress them, the fears came rushing into Merlin’s mind. Was Rhonda behind this? _Goddammit. I shouldn’t have let Harry complete the mission. I should have done it myself- I-_

       A gagging noise broke the turmoil of Merlin’s inner thoughts. He returned to the present to find Bors coughing, trying to expel the remnants of the drug and alcohol from his system. Grimly Merlin pulled him along, supporting half his weight with his body. “Come on, Bors. There’s a better place for that downstairs.”

       Even with his attention occupied, Merlin’s fears were not entirely assuaged. It wasn’t like Galahad not to respond to Merlin. Of course there were circumstances where responding verbally would draw too much attention, but Galahad should be searching the premises at the moment, which would give him plenty of freedom to speak. What in the world was he up to? The more Merlin thought about him, the faster his heart seemed to beat. He felt as if a ball of hot electrical energy had settled into his chest and stomach, filling him with jangling nerves and causing sweat to break out on his forehead.

       The moment they reached the first floor, Bors suddenly broke away from Merlin. He made it only a few steps down the hallway before slumping over and vomiting. Hastily Merlin put aside his thoughts of Harry and hurried to Bors’ side, laying a hand on his back. “How are you feeling, Bors?”

       “Feel like _hell_ ,” Bors coughed out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I… I can’t…” The sentence was left unfinished as his body was racked with more heaving. Merlin swallowed to wet his dry throat, assessing the new problem. Bors was unwell- he might not be able to make it to the ground floor. If they could just get into one of the rooms down the hall, maybe they would be safe to wait for Galahad-

       The hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck prickled, and he became aware of the presence of polished black oxfords in the upper region of his peripheral vision. Slowly, he raised his head, only to find himself staring into the faces of five men. All were dressed in suits, all were fairly muscular, and all had guns trained on Merlin.

       And perhaps most disturbingly of all, each man wore a different mask.

      “If you surrender to us right now,” the man in the middle of the group announced, “we’ll let you and your friend go free. After a few questions, of course. If not… well, there’s always the hard way.” The others nodded in agreement, and Merlin felt like shouting. _FUCK!_ How had he missed the fact that Rhonda had bodyguards? She’d never been seen publicly with them, but he should have assumed the Rhodes family had _some_ alternative to security cameras. What was _wrong_ with him tonight?

       “You bloody bastard,” Bors swore weakly from the floor. “We’ll _never…_ surrender to you.”

       “Not another word,” one of the men commanded, “or it’s back to the bedroom with you. _Both_ of you.”

       _Both of you…_ Merlin considered his options. Being tied up in the bedroom wasn’t the worst fate in the world. He knew how to wriggle out of such restraints. But he didn’t fancy the idea of having to fight his way past the guards afterward. If Harry was here…

       If Harry was here, Merlin wouldn’t feel so outnumbered. He wouldn’t feel like his heart was about to hammer right out of his chest, like a single touch from one of these men would send him collapsing. He wouldn’t feel like he was drowning, because Harry would be there to lift his head above the waves and support him, even at his own personal cost.

       But Harry _wasn’t_ there, so Merlin would have to face these men alone. Because he didn’t need to rely on anyone to do his work for him. Because he had trained alongside Galahad, goddammit. He might not be a regular field agent, but surely he could still kick ass.

       Surely he could still remember where each pressure point was.

       Music wafted in from down the corridor, out on the landing overlooking the ballroom. A chill traveled up Merlin’s spine when he realized he knew the song that was starting. Knew it with an old familiarity that went beyond catchy Top Forty tunes. This was something he had listened to intimately, the words etching themselves on his mind as he placed the turntable’s needle upon the worn groove over and over.

       _Oh, a storm is threatening_

_My very life today_

_If I don’t get some shelter_

_Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away_

      Oh, bless their hearts, the string quartet had finally come through for him.

      “I surrender,” Merlin murmured, raising his hands above his head and ignoring Bors’ indignant cry of protest. The man in the middle nodded in satisfaction and came forward, taking Merlin by the arm with one hand and keeping the gun trained on his head with the other. Solemnly Merlin let him lead him towards the rest of the group, passively playing along, until the chorus kicked into the string arrangement. Then he let a small smile cross his face.

       And then he stomped on the arch of the man’s foot as hard as he could, cracking the bones within.

       Immediately the corridor filled with energy and action, and Merlin went on autopilot. The surge of adrenaline replaced the sharp knot of anxiety within him. All worries and fears were shut off, leaving his mind free to perform simple orders.

       Palm to forehead, crack the skull. Flat of hand to throat. Fingers jab eyes, ears, nose. Duck, kick, and repeat.

       Guns clattered to the floor, and above the din soared a screaming violin, so clear that Merlin could almost hear the shape of the lyrics in it.

         _Rape, murder_

_It’s just a shot away_

_It’s just a shot away!_

One man fell, then another. With the help of Bors, who had grabbed the gun closest to his spot against the wall, a third man was downed. With a chokehold and a punch to the gut, Merlin sent the fourth crashing to the floor. He was about to start in on the fifth when a blunt force collided with the back of his head, leaving him reeling. He managed to stay on his feet, but his movements were unsteady as he stumbled to the wall. As quickly as he could, he turned his head to find himself staring down the barrel of the fifth man’s gun.

       Before Merlin’s life could flash before his eyes, though, a voice suddenly called from the other side of the corridor.

       “Get down!”

       _That voice._ Merlin _knew_ that voice, and he was willing to do anything it told him to. As he dropped to his hands and knees, a shot rang out, nailing the fifth man before he had any chance at all to react. He was dead before he even hit the floor.

       Once his heart stopped galloping, Merlin deemed it safe to rise. He had barely gotten to his feet before hands were on him, patting his back and brushing his suit jacket off. “Are you hurt?” that godsend of a voice demanded to know. Turning, Merlin laid eyes on none other than Harry, and a bolt of relief surged through him, making him weak at the knees. Here was Harry- _his_ Harry- at last, alive and in one piece. He’d saved the world and then come to Merlin, just as he said he would.

      “No… No, I’m not hurt.” The blood pumping in his ears was almost too loud for Merlin to even hear himself. He cleared his throat. “Are you?”

       Harry shook his head. _“They’re_ the only ones who got hurt.” He gestured to the men lying strewn across the floor, but he hardly glanced at them, and spoke as if the matter was entirely inconsequential.

       “I’ll get them out of the way,” Merlin said automatically. “You tend to Bors and telephone HQ. I’ve had enough of this bloody masquerade.”

       By the time each man had been rolled away into the nearest room and locked away, Harry had finished calling for a getaway car. He looked up from replacing the heel of his oxford as Merlin came back down the corridor, his head swimming. After tonight, there was no way in hell he wanted to be put in the field again. Not for another year, at least.

       “How’s Bors?” he asked as he approached Harry, who was slipping his shoe back on.

        “Passed out as soon as I got to him,” he replied, a small, curious frown appearing at the edges of his lips. “How much of that champagne did he drink?”

        “Just the one glass,” Merlin replied. “I saw him throw it up, too. He’s just had a rough night.”

       “As have we all,” Harry said quietly. “Kingsman is sending a car around to the back gardens. We’ll exit from the balcony.”

      “All right,” Merlin murmured, not meeting Harry’s eyes. Exhaustion was starting to set in, the flood of adrenaline fading away. At that moment, Merlin wanted nothing more than to drop into the nearest bed and curl up into unconsciousness- but the night wasn’t over quite yet.

        There was a moment’s pause as both he and Harry stared down at their shoes, Merlin acutely aware of how close they were to each other. Just as he was debating whether or not to step back, to resume their business, Harry leaned in, and Merlin found himself in Harry’s arms. His instincts compelled him to scan the room, searching out any prying invisible eyes- but then the sensation sunk in, the comforting warmth of Harry’s body pressed loosely against his. He was solid and vital and _exactly_ what Merlin needed right now. Slowly Merlin’s arms crept up to embrace Harry in return, tentatively at first, and then with heartfelt emotion. All the stress and tension drained out of him, his heartbeat slowing to match Harry’s.

       They stayed in that warm embrace for what could have been an hour, Harry’s chin resting on Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin’s arm wrapped protectively around Harry’s waist. Then Harry pulled away and broke into a soft smile, which Merlin couldn’t help but return. Funny how Harry was always the one to pull these reactions out of him. It wasn’t typical of him to display his emotions around anyone else.

         Then the smile shattered on his face as an urgent thought surfaced.

       “Galahad. Did you retrieve the tape?”

       Still smiling, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the tape, filled with secrets straight from the desks of MI6. At the sight of it, Merlin found himself breaking into a wide grin.

       “That should make MI6 very happy.” He hesitated. “You didn’t… complete the seduction, did you?”

        “Of course not,” Harry replied, making a face. “But you’d be surprised at how far casual conversation will get you.” He didn’t offer any more details, which Merlin figured was fine by him. Arthur often requested he save a copy of each agent’s reports for his own files, so he would know what had happened as soon as Galahad turned his report in.

        Right now, the details didn’t matter. Merlin only cared that Harry had returned to him safely, just as he had after every mission. He could hardly imagine a day when Harry _wouldn’t_ come back to him.

        “Do you know you had me worried?” he said, reaching out to lace his fingers through Harry’s soft, unresisting ones. “I contacted you and you didn’t respond. Then you show up out of nowhere with a gun that isn’t yours and you shoot a man without a second thought. You continue to keep me guessing.”

        “Well, I don’t want you to get _used_ to me,” Harry said, stroking the back of Merlin’s hand. “You might find me tremendously boring if you did.”

        Merlin was about to say that he didn’t think he’d ever find Harry boring, when the string quartet in the ballroom began a slow number. It was the first slow song he had heard all night, and though it still wasn’t his taste- Sting had done much better work with The Police- he found himself nodding his head to its moderate tempo.

       _You’ll remember me when the west wind moves_

_Upon the fields of barley_

_You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky_

_As we walk in fields of gold_

“I’ve been meaning to ask ever since I saw you on the floor tonight,” Merlin murmured. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned that you’re fond of dancing?”

       Slowly Harry inched closer to Merlin, one hand coming around to rest between Merlin’s shoulder blades. “Perhaps I was afraid _you_ weren’t fond of it.”

       “That’s a ridiculous assumption,” Merlin whispered, before leaning into Harry. He had only a few seconds to rest his head against Harry’s shoulder before Harry led him into a simple, slow step. Their bodies brushed softly against each other, swaying in a gentle rhythm. Merlin let Harry carry him along, enjoying their closeness and the warmth of Harry’s hand in his. His other hand rested comfortably against the small of Harry’s back, feeling the ripple of his muscles as he moved in time.

        A sense of inner peace stole over Merlin as he danced, the first he had felt all night. At last, he had nothing to worry about, and no one to keep tabs on but Harry Hart- _his_ heart. The world faded out until all Merlin was conscious of was Harry’s arms around him and his liquid brown eyes gazing unflinchingly into Merlin’s. If it wasn’t for the mask Merlin would have gladly gotten lost in them. The rise and fall of Harry’s chest and the slow beating of his heart provided a rhythm and soundtrack that went beyond the strings’ soft music.

       _I never made promises lightly_

_And there have been some that I’ve broken_

_But I swear, in the days still left_

_We’ll walk in fields of gold_

       Harry turned Merlin in a circle, and Merlin followed along, unresisting. They were so close now that he could feel Harry’s breath on his cheeks, their foreheads inches away from touching. Gracefully Harry leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek, causing his skin to flush.

       Then he started as if waking from a dream as Harry loosened his hold on Merlin, pulling away from him until the only contact that remained between them were their entwined fingers. He settled into a handsome, disarming smile, looking just as content as Merlin was. “Shall we head to the balcony now?”

       No, Merlin didn’t want to head to the balcony. All he wanted was to take Harry back into his arms, tear the mask from his face, and dance the rest of the night away. But with the mission complete, there was no reason to stay any longer. All good things must come to an end eventually. He slowly nodded, and just like that Harry let go of his hand, making his way to Bors’ side. Together they supported Bors between them, each taking an arm and wrapping it around their shoulders.

       From above the grand ballroom, the cluster of revolving couples more closely resembled a multicolored, sparkling ocean. Each seemed lost in their dreams, gazing deeply and devotedly into their partner’s eyes. The crowd no longer seemed like an intimidating wave rising to crush Merlin and drown him. Now he could almost taste the magic in the air, the romance of the dark night that Rhonda had spoken of when she toasted Bors. And it was all thanks to Harry. He’d followed Merlin’s orders, expressed concern when he believed Merlin was in trouble, and ended up stepping in to save him in the end. A better man Merlin had never known. Most agents only gave him the time of day because they didn't want to disappoint Merlin. Harry was different. Harry cared about the man _beyond_ Merlin. Cared enough to go out of his way to make that man happy. He hardly deserved Harry Hart.

       At once Merlin felt his heart swelling with the emotion he had felt in the bathroom earlier, filling to the brim. But this went beyond appreciation for Harry’s presence- this was something much sweeter. This could almost be called…

       He swallowed as they approached the French doors leading out to the balcony. Down below wound the sinuous paths through the gardens, full of splendid flowers, and up above was the star-studded sky, like rhinestones twinkling in black velvet. A more scenic location could not have been chosen. Maybe the timing wasn’t perfect, but Merlin couldn’t keep it in any longer.

      But suddenly Harry was breaking from Merlin, leaving him to support Bors’ full weight. Merlin stared, somewhat confused, as Harry undid the latch to open the doors.

       “Our driver’s coming up from the gardens to meet us,” Harry explained, as he pushed the door open. “I reckon Bors isn’t feeling well enough to make it down from the balcony on his own.”

       “Good work, Galahad,” Merlin muttered, but he couldn’t help sagging a little. Here was the finest moment he could have picked, and just like that, it had slipped away from him.

       Harry held the door open as the driver took Bors off Merlin’s hands. Merlin waited to make sure that they had reached the ground safely before stepping across the threshold himself. But even then, he found his feet rooted to the floor. A light summer breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the tempting scents of honeysuckle and hyacinth, and somewhere on the grounds below chirped a chorus of crickets. It was all so perfect, too perfect. Maybe he _should_ say it-

       He shot a glance down at the driver and Bors, making sure they were entirely occupied before looking back at Harry, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for Merlin to step outside. He took a deep breath.

       “Harry?”

      “…Yes?” Harry met Merlin’s gaze, and even from beneath his ridiculous mask Merlin could see his heartfelt brown eyes, burning intensely into him. A flicker of surprise passed his face, obviously wondering why Merlin hadn’t used his codename. Merlin exhaled, warmth spreading through his chest and traveling through each vein.

       “I love you.”

       It was difficult to judge Harry’s reaction with the mask on, but Merlin could have sworn he saw his face soften. He looked entirely vulnerable **.** _As if… my god, he’s going to say he loves me t-_

        “You daft man,” Harry said, his voice so low that Merlin had to strain to hear him. “You shouldn’t say such things to me in public. It makes it very hard for me to keep from kissing you.”

        Numbly Merlin gestured to the balcony, trying his best not to melt right then and there. “Then let’s take it outside. No one will see us but the Moon.”

       Harry’s eyes widened, and in one quick movement he pushed his mask up from his face, revealing a mixture of incredulity, affection, and most of all, pure joy.

       “Ian Meyer,” he breathed, and this time Merlin didn’t have to listen closely. “I _love_ you.”

       It wasn’t the first time Merlin had heard Harry say his name, but this time was the most meaningful of all. He melted, feeling as if his heart had fluttered out of his chest and settled into Harry’s hands to stay.

       He _loved_ this beautiful, perfect, kind and gentle man. And Harry loved him back.

       The night’s fireworks display began shortly after the getaway car pulled away from the gardens, providing a convenient distraction for Merlin, Galahad, and Bors to slip away. In the ensuing flurry of activity at HQ of taking Bors to medical and handing the stolen tape over to Arthur, the joys of the night were soon abandoned. But Merlin’s lips still tingled with the kisses Harry had given him, so few, but so precise, and in his head trilled the sound of strings. He drifted into sleep that night reliving their slow dance. In the darkness of impending slumber, the world and the people around them had faded away, leaving just him and Harry swaying endlessly to the rhythm of the night. The two of them the only people in the room, at last.

*

**Visual/Aural Reference**

_Masks_

[Bors](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/af/10/93/af109308da99e9294135a9248c53a304.jpg)

[Rhonda](http://masqueboutique.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Beautiful-Luxury-Swarovski-Crystal-White-Swan-Venetian-Masquerade-Mask-a.jpg)

[Merlin](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/9b/e5/f3/9be5f3eebea08861c62d208900d4ee91.jpg)

Harry's mask was inspired by a mask someone I know owns, so unfortunately I can't share a picture. Just take my word that it's very impressive.

_Playlist_

["Linger"- The Cranberries cover by Harmonia 4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtL6vnkTCOU)

["Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)"- Eurythmics cover by Dallas String Quartet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pg9xV0Nabo4)

["Fields of Gold"- Sting cover by Dallas String Quartet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udk8VJ9vy0Q)

Unfortunately there are no existing covers of "The Sign" by Ace of Base and "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones that I know of, but if any readers know of one, feel free to point me in the right direction!


End file.
